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Avenge, Balance.

Talk me down
from pumping lead
into the brain.

Too dramatic.
I’m such a pussy.
Probably just chase pills
with cheap booze

with the highest alcohol
content, smoke
a cigarette after a stupid poem

written high, drunk,
nicotine-fueled, supported
by the residual caffeine.

See? I need your help.
I have this bullet:
is the name on it him,
or could it be me?

Aren’t you dizzy enough yet?

Get down. Spread out. Man up 
and hone in on the target.
Now: avenge, balance.

Blast that motherfucker
till he’s lost
in space and out of time.


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